I'm leaving tomorrow morning for my defense. I'll spend that whole day driving, arrive sometime in the evening, and then defend early (for me) in the morning, at 0900. I only have to give a 15 minute talk, but then I can have questions for up to two hours and forty-five minutes. Hopefully, though, it will be much less than that, I'll be able to get it all done quite quickly, and I'll be able to have a good lunch with some friends from grad school by noon.
I've got plenty of confidence now, but I must admit I was a little bit rattled earlier today when I got an email from a committee member complaining that my results section was incomprehensible. Turns out, he/she just had to read a bit farther and it all became clear...wish we could have read ahead and then not sent me the email indicating that may dissertation was rubbish, rather than sending the email and then redacting it with an "oops-sorry I guess it's just fine" email. But, the fact that I was able to respond to his questions and criticisms did remind me that I have worked hard and thought through my work, and I should be able to defend it without any difficulty on Thursday.
In other news, I met my neighboring faculty today. They were very helpful and friendly, and it was nice to start forming some relationships around the department. I'll be looking forward to meeting more people soon.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The First Day
Training all morning. I was really anxious going to bed last night (Sunday night, as it is now the early morning of Tuesday). It's been a long time since I was that wound up going to sleep. But the familiar voices of Stephen Merchant, Karl Pilkington, and Ricky Gervais were nice background noise, and I managed to breathe deeply, and find a sense of calm in knowing that whatever will come of this job, I will always have many other things to keep me happy, not the least of which are Amanda and music.
I had long forgotten, but there was a time when I went to bed with that kind of anxiety evey day. During High School it would come every Sunday, when I knew I would have to leave the freedom and safety of home for the jungle of school the next day. When I knew not what future ending academic catastrophe, or unlooked-for social blunder would humiliate me and provide me with the worst sort of fame. Or in grade school, when I had little understanding of the rules of the social world of children, and often did face embarassment or scorn or, at best, puzzled rejection. It is, without a doubt, a direct result of that long early bout with anxiety which has given me the inner resources I can now claim, not the least of which is the ability to talk myself out of worry as I fall asleep.
I had long forgotten, but there was a time when I went to bed with that kind of anxiety evey day. During High School it would come every Sunday, when I knew I would have to leave the freedom and safety of home for the jungle of school the next day. When I knew not what future ending academic catastrophe, or unlooked-for social blunder would humiliate me and provide me with the worst sort of fame. Or in grade school, when I had little understanding of the rules of the social world of children, and often did face embarassment or scorn or, at best, puzzled rejection. It is, without a doubt, a direct result of that long early bout with anxiety which has given me the inner resources I can now claim, not the least of which is the ability to talk myself out of worry as I fall asleep.
Monday, August 24, 2009
The New Guy
Like every diary I have ever kept before, this one started out a bit focused, and then degenerated into the scribblings of a madman with ADHD. As Stephen Merchant once said, "It's like something you'd find written by a psychopath. There would be like weird ravings, pictures of women with knives in their faces, and this sort of nonsense." But despite that, I've actually got something to say here, and a new plan for the diary.
First of all, tomorrow is the first real day of my new job as a professor. There isn't much to do, other than go in for the new faculty training/orientation, but even something as simple as sitting in an auditorium and listening to administrators prattle on about policy for three hours seems like a huge looming beacon of the realities of having a J.O.B. It is the proverbial tip of the iceberg, with semesters (God, years) of work and effort stretching out, hidden, behind it. It's like when you block out the Sun with your thumb, only in this case, the Sun is the future, streaming toward me, and the thumb is this meeting, which reflects the light (i.e. the existence) of the Sun, but which also blocks it from my direct view. In any case, terrifying and exciting at the same time.
Then, Wednesday, I embark on my drive to my alma mater, where I will defend my dissertation, obtain the title "Doctor" which I have worked so hard to garner, and party myself sick for a day or two before returning here, where my classes begin in earnest on Tuesday next. Needless to say, I will feel much better two weeks from now. However, even then, I fear that there will be a considerably longer adjustment period, in which I will have to adjust to working not at home, waking up during the morning hours, and acquitting myself properly in all the administrative (which I am mentally pronouncing ad MIN is tra tive) tasks of which I am still unaware. I hope that, come December, my completion of the semester, and my actual receipt of my degree, I will feel considerably more comfortable here than I do now. As it is, I am more than a little apprehensive.
Perhaps because of this apprehension, I hope to transform this journal into a record of my life during this opening chapter in my academic career, if as nothing more than a place to pour out my more unpleasant emotions so that I may sleep easy on nights like tonight.
First of all, tomorrow is the first real day of my new job as a professor. There isn't much to do, other than go in for the new faculty training/orientation, but even something as simple as sitting in an auditorium and listening to administrators prattle on about policy for three hours seems like a huge looming beacon of the realities of having a J.O.B. It is the proverbial tip of the iceberg, with semesters (God, years) of work and effort stretching out, hidden, behind it. It's like when you block out the Sun with your thumb, only in this case, the Sun is the future, streaming toward me, and the thumb is this meeting, which reflects the light (i.e. the existence) of the Sun, but which also blocks it from my direct view. In any case, terrifying and exciting at the same time.
Then, Wednesday, I embark on my drive to my alma mater, where I will defend my dissertation, obtain the title "Doctor" which I have worked so hard to garner, and party myself sick for a day or two before returning here, where my classes begin in earnest on Tuesday next. Needless to say, I will feel much better two weeks from now. However, even then, I fear that there will be a considerably longer adjustment period, in which I will have to adjust to working not at home, waking up during the morning hours, and acquitting myself properly in all the administrative (which I am mentally pronouncing ad MIN is tra tive) tasks of which I am still unaware. I hope that, come December, my completion of the semester, and my actual receipt of my degree, I will feel considerably more comfortable here than I do now. As it is, I am more than a little apprehensive.
Perhaps because of this apprehension, I hope to transform this journal into a record of my life during this opening chapter in my academic career, if as nothing more than a place to pour out my more unpleasant emotions so that I may sleep easy on nights like tonight.
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